billionaire brat(s) | iwaoi

18

The coffee shop was not crowded at all for 9 am in the morning. Iwaizumi fiddled with his cup in front of him. Only a few college students were sitting around, their laptops out and notes scattered.

It was calm.

It felt peaceful.

It reminded him of the night when Oikawa looked at him, all untroubled and soft and

No. Nope, nope. We're not doing this right now.

Iwaizumi Hajime leaned back in his seat, folding his arms. He pushed his thoughts to the side.

He stared at his father sitting across him, eating a slice of cake. After a while, his father sat down his spoon on the tray and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"How's your boss?" His father asked, raising his eyebrows.

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, "he's not my boss."

He's not my anything.

His father smiled, shrugging, "you know who I mean, son."

"He's fine," he took a breath, "I haven't seen him since France."

"And how are you?"

"I'm good." He looked away, towards his miserable coffee sitting on the table.

If by good he meant drowning in his misery at 2 am. Processing the fact that he might like the guy he has hated all his life. Accepting out loud to himself for the first time that Oikawa Tooru is the most attractive man he has ever seen.

Then, yeah. sure. He was good. Incredibly good.

"How's the contract going? Is Oikawa helping you?"

"It's going smoothly. He had been helping before France but I haven't seen him at all since then—

And he won't see him, probably not. Oikawa probably wanted nothing to do with him but Iwaizumi couldn't not see him. He wanted to see Oikawa, and that fact alone scared the shit out of him.

His father interrupted, "Ah. I understand. He's real annoying, am I right? You can't stand the guy after a few minutes. Gets on my nerves every single time."

Iwaizumi bit his tongue.

His father continued, "I hope you know who he really is. Just some asshole billionaire with no manners. Drinking, sex all the time—

"You're literally just as rich." Iwaizumi hissed.

His father gave him a questioning look, eyebrows up to his hairline, "oh, are we defending him now? You've never even liked him—

"Im not!," Iwaizumi threw up his hand, "I'm not, okay? Just don't shame him for liking those things. It's not just about him."

"Okay. Geez. I wasn't. I'm just saying it's not your thing, that's all."

His father's face was sorry. Iwaizumi sighed, nodding at him which made his father smile, he leaned forward to pat Iwaizumi's shoulder proudly.

"Come with me some where next week, Hajime."

Iwaizumi frowned, "where?"

His father shrugged, nudging his tray aside and folding his hands on the table, "there's an art show — and I have to introduce you to someone." He was smiling. Iwaizumi groaned internally.

"I'm not meeting anyone's daughter— or son."

"Oh, cmon! His name is Rintarou and he's—